One Nightmare After The Other
by DestineyTot
Summary: Henry escaped Walter's hellish world, but now he finds himself being called back to the nightmare he ran away from. And what's worse is that the notorious killer isn't dead - and is looking to complete what he started. Walter/Henry SLASH
1. Nightmares

**I'm on break...and with all this free time, I feel like writing a fanfic...hopefully one that I can finish. Also, THIS WILL CONTAIN SLASH/YAOI. Preferably WalterxHenry. So you have been warned.**

**I do not own Silent Hill. If I did...well...I'D BE PRETTY FUCKING RICH.

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He'd been sure to get as far away as he could.

After the nightmarish world he'd been trapped in for god knows how long, Henry had been sure to leave behind Room 302 and its demons. He'd ended it, and never looked back. He'd plunged the last spear into the monstrocity and unloaded the entire magazine of Richard's revolver into the man who had caused him so much pain. The man who had killed 21 people as if it were nothing. The man who had taken his best - and only - friend away; Eileen Galvin.

He'd never forget that blood curdling scream, the high-pitched type of sound like finger-nails scraping against a blackboard. Bloody murder. It made his blood run cold, made him loose the very feeling in his fingers and toes. _Eileen was dead_.

And the killer stood and laughed at him. _Laughed_. Henry had never felt so much emotion in his life. A strong mixture of pain, sorrow, and burning anger. He wasn't going to let him live. So he ended it, right then and there. Sent the monster back to his fucking grave and left.

He found himself back in his bed, in his apartment after that. Opening his eyes slowly and taking in the scene...Henry had jerked himself up from his bed and ran straight towards the front door. He'd turned the door knob, fearing for the worst...and was met with the entirely normal hallways of South Ashfield Heights. The feeling of relief that washed over him at that moment was incredible, like lifting a thousand pounds off his shoulders. He couldn't stop the few tears that made their way down his cheeks as he hastily packed whatever he could and left that cursed apartment, merely leaving a note telling the super that he couldn't stay there anymore.

Now here he was, a good 100 miles away, not too far from his hometown. The first thing Henry had actually done was visit his mother right away. She'd been a loss for words, watching as her son collapsed into her arms, sobbing about missing her and being _so _scared. All she could do was stand there and hold him, trying to figure out what was wrong. But, of course Henry couldn't tell her.

Digging through whatever supplies he'd managed to pack, Henry had come across his camera. He'd lifted up the black device, turning it over and over in his hands. That day, he'd gone out to a field nearby his mother's house - a field he used to play in as a child - and spent his time taking pictures of the quaint, peaceful scenery. It filled him with such a sense of noramilty, a feeling he hadn't felt in what seemed like _ages_.

It seemed like the nightmare was finally over. Henry could lie in his bed and sleep without the constant worry of being plagued by a haunting. But he was wrong. Because as soon as the last shreds of light faded away and his eyes closed, that's when the nightmare began all over again.

He'd hear _his_ voice, calling out to him. Calling him by his sacrament name. _"Reciever..."_ Henry would cringe, tossing in his bed, trying to rid the voice from his dreams. _"Reciever...where have you gone? Come back...I need you here..." _

Henry was thankful it was only his voice in his dreams. He never saw his face, but his baritone voice always haunted him. There was never anything to see in his dreams, only blackness. But his voice was still there.

These incidents began to happen more and more frequently, and soon Henry found himself a restless wreck during the daytime. He'd quickly thrown down his photography, much too exhausted to go out into the field. His mother, who he began regularly visiting again, began to worry herself sick over him. She'd always ask him what's wrong - _Henry, please...what's wrong? - _but the brunette would never answer, only shake his head.

It was becoming almost unbearable now. Like a terminal disease. It never got better, only worse.

Then one night, another entity invaded his dreams. A much more familiar voice. Henry would have been relieved that it wasn't Walter. _Would had_. But this voice seemed ot torture him more then the other. _"I can't believe you, Henry...you promised me!" _She'd wail, crying. _"You said you'd help me! But you didn't...you didn't help me...you lied! You LET ME DIE!" _

He'd stand before her, trying to think of an explaination while she cried tears of blood. But what could he say? How could he explain anything to a _dead person_? In the end, all he could do was stare at the ground and repeat "I'm sorry, I'm sorry" over and over again.

Now instead of trying to find sleep, Henry tried his best to avoid it. It finally got to the point where he couldn't hold his head up during the day and would fall asleep performing simple tasks such as reading a book, or eating. That's whenever the pills came in. He'd began taking multiple doses of speed, things like "Stacker 2" and "Fasten". But that never made the situation any easier...only worse. Henry found simple tasks such as pouring coffee to be nearly impossible with all the shaking he did.

One day the pot had slipped from his trembling hand and spilled all over the floor - including his vulnerable feet. He'd suffered second degree burns, having to completely wrap his feet in bandages and walk around the house in them for nearly a week.

Finally, it came to a boiling point. Henry sighed, laying his head in his hands. He had to go back.

Back to South Ashfield Heights. Room 302.

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**If you want me to continue, review please! I already have the story mapped out, I just need a little inspiration *cough*REVIEWS!*cough***


	2. Return

**Chapter 2. This is where the story gets going. Hopefully it won't go down in flames like so many of my other stories. D: Eh...I'm going to try and keep myself committed to this fanfic!**

**I don't own Silent Hill...sadly...cause if I did, there'd be more SLASH!

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It was raining that day, pouring heavily. Henry stood out in the downpour eyeing the apartment complex with hardened eyes. Brown strands of long bangs stuck damply to his forehead, his skin and clothes becoming soaked as time went on. In the grey and dark background of the city, only the bright green hues of his eyes brought color to the scene.

He'd hated it. Taking that first step back into what he considered hell. There were some people sitting in the lobby - an elderly couple and a young woman. The woman stared at Henry's soaked form, eyeing him as if something wasn't right with him. Henry turned and met her gaze. The woman immediatly lowered her eyes, mouthing a quiet "sorry".

Frank Sunderland - The buildings super. That's who Henry was looking for. He walked around to the east side of the building, coming up to Frank's apartment door. Henry let three quick raps fall across the door's frame.

Frank opened the door slowly, eyes taking in Henry who was standing in a puddle of rain droplets. "Henry...is that...is that you?"

It felt possitively strange, speaking to a man Henry thought he'd never see again. He quickly pushed that feeling away, speaking quickly. "Is Room 302 still empty?"

Frank seemed a little put off by Henry's assertiveness. He knew it was unlike the quiet and shy man to speak like that. "Sure, but...Henry, are you okay?" Frank asked, genuine concern leaking in his voice. He placed a hand on the younger man's shoulder, staring at him with kind eyes.

"I'm fine." Henry quickly muttered, ignoring the kind gesture. "I just...I need to get back into that room for just a bit longer."

Frank nodded in disdain, walking over to a key rack on his wall. He yanked off a key with the tag "302" on it and returned to Henry, hand extended and key hanging by a finger. "I'm not sure you should go back in there Henry." Frank suddenly murmured, concerned. "I mean, last time, some weird stuff happened with you in there. Then you just up and left outta nowhere. And now you're back. I really...really don't want you to go back to that room."

Henry was taken back by Frank's concern. The man didn't even know him personally, yet he expressed such concern about him. But Henry wasn't about to be won over by Frank. He took the key from Frank's finger, whispering. "I'll be fine."

Frank stood at his door frame while Henry disappeared down the hall. He didn't know what, but something definitely didn't feel right to him. He knew that Room 302 had a rather...bad history, and the current events had just further proved that. Bu then again, he couldn't really change Henry's mind.

**x-X-x**

He was back. Back in hell? He had no idea.

The room looked surprisingly neat. Unlike how he'd left it after he'd left. It was a mess, things thrown to the floor in the midst of his hasty packing. But everything was back in place now. The walls were white, washed. The couch and tables neatly arranged. They'd even laid a new strip of dry-wall over the peep-hole to Eileen's room.

Eileen's room...what was he even talking about? It wasn't her room...at least not now.

The room seemed strangely normal. At peace. There weren't any hauntings trying to squeeze their way out of the walls. The sink wasn't running blood. The windows weren't shaking. Henry walked up to the TV and, ever so hesitantly, turned it on. It was the local news. A reporter had just come off of the subject of sports and was now heading into something about a crime.

_"In other news, the strange killing rampage has seemingly stopped, no other victims being found. Yet, even though the murders have ceased, the killer has not been found yet. Police are still searching for evidence at the crime scenes, but no leads have been confirmed. The search for the killer continues."_

Henry quickly turned the TV off, sinking down into the couch. He laid his head in his hands, rubbing his temples. He knew it wouldn't be long before he was forecully reminded of what transcribed over the past few weeks. It was as if God was cruelly pointing a finger at him, making him pay for something that he couldn't help.

Henry glanced up from his hands to the clock sitting on the wall. It was almost eleven o'clock... He felt the past few weeks of slep deprivation began to catch up with him. His whole body suddenly felt heavy and useless. The effects of the speed were starting to wear off. He fished into his bag, looking for the bottle of pills. When his fingers didn't meet anything, he cursed to himself. _He'd forgotten the damn pills_.

The brunette threw himself back onto the couch in irritation. He crossed his hands behind his head, staring up at the ceiling. It wasn't long before sleep claimed him.

_"Reciever..." _The baritone voice whispered to him. It was slightly different this time. Henry could almost see the smug smile in it. _"You've come back...I knew you would." _He laughed softly at Henry, causing the brunette to glare in his sleep. How he hated that laugh... _"Mother missed you, Henry. She's glad to have you back...home."_

Henry jerked up from the couch, breathing heavily. He stared around the dimly lit room, trying to calm his racing heart. He could still hear his voice ringing in his ears. _Home...Mother..._ What the hell was he talking about? The brunette ran a hand through his hair, his breathing slowing to a normal pace. He glanced up at the clock again. 3 AM. He'd actually gotten some sleep.

The photographer stood up from the couch, feeling suddenly parched. He headed over towards the sink, pouring himslef a glassful of water. It helped soothe the dry itchiness of his throat, which he was thankful for. At least he wasn't getting sick from being soaked earlier...

The brunette set the glass in the sink, turning on his heel back towards the couch. As soon as he turned, he froze in his steps.

_Blood_...blood was smeared on the floor. Smeared from the couch all the way to his old room. Henry stared at the crimson liqiud, his breathing accelerating once more. He stepped cautiously around the counter, walking slowly down the hallway. He found himself silently praying to himself. _Please, god...please, god...please don't let it be anybody..._

The photographer set his hand on the bedroom's doorknob. He hesitated, heart racing at the thought of who was behind the door. He swallowed hard, forcing himself to turn the knob.

"You're back..."

Henry felt his legs go weak, almost giving out on him. He steadied himself against the door frame, staring at the figure with wide eyes.

He was sitting on his bed, holding the shabby doll he'd once given the brunette. The blonde looked up slowly, meeting the terrified gaze of the brunette and mimicking his earlier words. "I knew you'd come back."

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**The beginning of this story started slower then I intended for, but since we're past that now, I'm pretty sure we'll start progressing quickly through it. Oh, and please review! ^^**


	3. Wisdom

**Is it me, or does Luis Sera from Resident Evil 4 remind me of Walter? It's just...creepy. I know that was random, but nyaaaa. **

**Silent Hill does not make me rich.

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All Henry could do was stand there. Stand there and stare in shock. _How the hell was he alive? _

"You look surprised, Reciever..." Walter murmured gently. He studied him with his own emerald eyes, taking in the trembling form of his sacrament.

"Y-You...dead...You're supposed to be dead..." Henry whispred, voice shaking.

Walter smikred slightly, tilting his head slightly to the left. "Dead? Silly Reciever...Mother will never let me die. She protects me, just as she protected you." Walter stood up slowly from the bed, letting the shabby doll fall from his hands. "She's such a kind spirit."

Henry hesitated before realizing that Walter was advancing towards him. He forced himself to take a step back from the blonde, backing into the hallway. Walter followed him, nonetheless.

"Stay away..." Henry mumbled pathetically. He knew it was useless to tell him that. If it was that easy, he would have done it a long time ago.

Walter shook his head, continuing towards Henry at a slow pace. "You came back, Reciever. Do you know what kind of significance that holds? ...You don't?"

"Of course not." Henry forced himself to speak, eyeing the murderer with wary eyes.

"I means that you are tied to Mother. That you as a sacrament belong _here_, within her. And must I say, she is so happy to have you back." Walter's smirk faded into a genuine smile, but it only unnerved Henry further. The brunette's back finally met the wall of the hallway, causing him to turn and eye the wall. His eyes darted back and forth between the dry-rock and Walter, a flurry of thoughts racing through his mind.

"You shouldn't have run away...Henry." The sound of his name coming from the killer made cold shivers run down Henry's spine. He watched as the blonde reached inside his coat and slowly pulled out a scalpel, pointing the tip of it towards the terrified photographer.

"What are you doing...st-...stay away!" Th brunette managed to yell, actually raising his voice with another individual. Walter disregarded Henry's pleas and began closing the very small space between them.

Henry felt the panic completely take over. One second he was backed against the wall, and the next, he had shoved the murder back and darted towards the exit. Henry forced his feet to a skidded stop against the floor, eyeing his door with primal fear.

It was _back_. Those damned _chains_...

The door was chained again, blocking Henry's only escape. He knew it was useless, but he nonetheless started tugging at the chains, as if he could rip them straight off the door. The only thing that distracted him were the soft foot-falls coming towards him again. The photographer became motionless, his back turned toward the other man, staring down at the floor.

Walter didn't speak, obviously not phased by Henry's actions. The scalpel was in his hand at his side. Henry could practically feel Walter's eyes staring through him, through his very soul. It was so unnerving, like constantly being monitered by a surveilence camera. The brunette finally convinced himself to turn and meet the blonde. He had his hands balled up in fists, trying desperately not to let Walter see his trembling.

"Why can't you just leave me alone." Henry whispered across the small space. "Why couldn't it have been someone else...why the hell did you chose me?"

Walter's smile faltered and he stared, almost confused, back at Henry. "Do you honestly think that the sacraments were merely randomly selected people?" Henry didn't answer, merely staring back at the killer with an emotionless face. Walter sighed, moving the scalpel in a 'tsk tsk' motion. "Receiver, each sacrament has a special role in this. Each of you represent a part in the ritual. There are four parts to the ritual itself - The Four Signs." Henry lowered his eyes to the floor again, listening to Walter recite what he'd already read once. "The First Sign And God said, At the time of fullness, cleanse the world with my rage. Gather forth the White Oil, the Black Cup and the Blood of the Ten Sinners. Prepare for the Ritual of the Holy Assumption. The Second Sign And God said, Offer the Blood of the Ten Sinners and the White Oil. Be then released from the bonds of the flesh, and gain the Power of Heaven. From the Darkness and Void, bring forth Gloom, and gird thyself with Despair for the Giver of Wisdom."

"That's why you killed yourself..." Henry found himself mumbling. Despite the low volume, Walter heard it nonetheless. He nodded, continueing.

"The Third Sign And God said, Return to the Source through sin's Temptation. Under the Watchful eye of the demon, wander alone in the formless Chaos. Only then will the Four Atonements be in alignment."

Henry clenched his fingers tighter, voice strained. "Cynthia...Andrew and...Richard..."

"The Last Sign and God said, separate from the flesh too, she who is the Mother Reborn and he who is the Receiver of Wisdom. If this be done, by the Mystery of the 21 Sacraments, the Mother shall be reborn and the Nation of Sin shall be redeemed." Walter trailed off with a slight smile on his lips, studying Henry carefully. "Don't you see, Henry? This is what's _right_. We all need Mother."

"You killed Eileen..." Henry whispered through clenched teeth.

"I merely released her from the bonds of her flesh. I saved her from this cruel world - a world that doesn't deserve someone so kind as her." Walter's spoke considerably quiet now, voice trailing off softly. "Just as I want to save _you_, Receiver."

Henry heard one slow footstep followed by another. He immediatly snapped his head up. Walter was beginning to advance on him again. The brunette felt the familiar sense of fear wash over him again as he desperately searched for a way out. His eyes darted over to the kitchen drawer. If he could just get his hands on-

"There are no knives." Walter simply spoke, as if reading Henry's mind. "No weapons at all."

The brunnette's heart began to race even faster. He had to try and calculate what Walter was going to do. Perhaps if he could just get a hold of him...No, that was ridiculous. Henry knew he wouldn't be able to physically subdue the man, especially if 6 rounds from a fucking revolver didn't do anything.

He had to be ready to jump, to move out of the way. if he didn't...Henry inwardly cringed at the thought of being sliced up by a scalpel. Would a simple bullet to the head be too demanding of a death?

_Of course not_. It hadn't been that easy for the others.

It seemed as if Walter was just going to take his sweet time, movements so slow and measured. Henry was completely caught off guard whenever the man quickly lunged at him. The movement was so fast and unexpected. The photgrapher quickly tried to dodge to the side, but still felt a sharp stinging burn course throughout his arm.

He slid across the kicthen floor on his side, holding his arm which just seemed to being gushing blood. It ran down his arm in small streams, wetting the material of his shirt. The scalpel had made its mark, a rather deadly one at that.

The rusty smell and sight of blood made Henry slightly woozy. It was something he'd never gotten used to. It always made him sick.

Henry saw Walter turning towards him, about to lunge once more. He scrambled into the living room, pushing over a stool in an attempt to slow Walter down. The man anticipated it though, and merely stepped over it. Henry scooted quickly towards the coffee table and couch, reaching out for anything his hands could get a hold of. He found his grasp around a small vase, quickly tossing it at Walter. It cracked and shattered upon impact with the man's head, stopping him momentarilly.

He merely brushed off the small shards of glass, ignoring the cuts they caused with a smile. Henry kept pushing himself back as far away as he could. But Walter didn't waste any time and quickly approached him. The blonde took hold of Henry's shirt and jerked him up to his feet. It almost seemed as if he was helping Henry, but that allusion was quickly tossed to the side once he slung the brunette to the other side of the room. Henry crashed into the TV and stand, making the TV fall over and crack. The collision with his head and the hard wood made his vision turn white and fuzzy.

The brunette heard an amused laugh, as if the murderer was actually taking pleasure in doing this. Hell, it wouldn't be heard to believe that. He'd easily killed 20 people, including himself. Walter sauntered over to the stunned photographer, meaning to inflict yet another blow. Henry quickly smashed his foot into Walter's knee-cap, causing the blonde to lose his balance and fall over, head cracking against the table. Given the chance he had, Henry quickly scrambled to his feet, trying to put as much room as he could between Walter and himself. A hand lashed out, grabbing Henry's ankle. He lost his balance once more and collided with the floor.

But the brunette wasn't going to let himself be killed so easily. He struggled, kicking at Walter and freeing his ankle. Having no where else to go, he scrambled into the hallway.

Walter recovered himself quickly, a scowl replacing his usual smile. "You're making this unessessarily hard, Receiver." He quickly caught up to Henry, grabbing the back of the brunette's shirt and slamming him into the wall. The impact brought forth a pained yell from Henry. He reached up to his face, cradling what he thought was now a broken nose. And of course, there was blood. Walter pushed him hard, causing him to go stumbling and collide with the wall at the end of the hallway. He bounced off it like a pebble, crumpling into the floor like a broken doll.

Going by instinct, Henry reached out and tried to get to his feet once more. A boot slamming down on his arm stopped him cold, earning yet another pained shriek from him. He could have sworn he heard a _crack_. Walter lashed out again, this time kicking Henry in his side and rolling him over so that his back was facing Walter once more. It took his breath away, making the brunette wheeze for air.

More kicks ensued, each targeting a different limb, a different spot. It quickly wore Henry down, making him feel like a pile of trash. His arms felt like rubber hoses, his legs too weak to help him stand. All he could do was sit there and take the beating, praying to god that the man would just hurry up and finish.

One last kick to his ribs. Walter backed off, seemingly satisfied with his work. He was breathing deeply, as if he'd just gotten off a rush. Hell, he probably did. The blonde knelt down beside Henry, placing a hand on his most likey broken arm and turning him over. The sight was pitiful. Eyes closed tightly and lips practically trembling. He looked like a broken piece of equipment, no longer functioning. Walter sighed, almost regretfully. He grabbed the collar of Henry's shirt, ripping the first few buttons of it. The scalpel dug into the photographers skin, making crimson leak and run down his collarbone.

21121 - 21/21

Henry didn't respond to the cutting whatsoever. He was too focused on the other extremities of pain coursing through his body. His fractured, possibly broken ribs made it hard to breathe. The strong ache in his arms made it hard to think. He didn't care anymore. He'd welcome death with open arms if it could take the pain away.

Walter held the scapel in both hands now, staring down at Henry with almost sad, regretful eyes. "Now I free you from the bonds of your flesh. You'll no longer have to suffer...Henry..."

He plunged the scalpel into Henry's chest. Once...twice...three times. Over and over again. The pain was unimaginable, choking the life right out of Henry. His shirt was soaked with blood, a puddle of the crimson liquid pooling in the floor. It was bouncing off in little droplets, hitting the wall, splashing on Walter's face...

The last sight he saw was the blood-covered expression of pure sympathy on Walter's face as the man repeatedly stabbed him over and over again.

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**Ehehe...I tried to make Henry's death entertaining (in th sense that the readers liked it) This chapter was longer than I intended it to be, but oh well. :D I didn't want to completely rush through it and make things dull. I had to go over several death concepts for Henry and I noticed that no one had done this one yet. DEATH BY SCALPEL, I SAY!**

**Please review! :D**


	4. Order

**...Fail chapter is FAIL! I guess...I hope this all comes out nicely. I wrote this while listening to Fiction by Avenged Sevenfold (a very SAD and beautiful song). **

**PS: Silent Hill = Konami (not me)

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Dim light. Fuzzy figures...

He slowly opened his eyes, blinking a couple of times, trying to adjust in the change of light. His head hurt...hell, everything hurt. Every inch of his body felt sore, as if he'd just got done running a marathon, lifting weights, fighting a boxing champion. Most of the pain seemed to radiate from his chest though. He felt as if someone had taken a sledgehammer and wacked him with it a few times.

The worn brunette let out a half-hearted groan, mostly from pain. He turned his head a little to the right - which hurt more then it should have - and stared at the empty closet. He turned to his left and was met with blackened and covered windows. On the dresser at the end of the bed was the doll.

It was his room.

Henry planted his hands against the bed and slowly tried to raise himself up, which he found was immensly painful. The photographer finally got himself into a sitting position, laying his head in his hands.

"What the...hell..." he mumbled low to himself. He slowly raised his head, taking in the various bandages on his body. Some of them were slightly bloody, others fresh. Henry tugged on one of the bandages, unwrapping the white gauze. On the upper part of his arm was what looked like the healing remains of a gash. A deep one at that.

His head began to pound as previous memories flooded his mind. The most vivid being Walter stabbing him repeatedly with a scalpel. Henry stared emotionless down at the bed sheets, his mind going a complete blank. Had all that really happened? Or was it just a dream...

_It couldn't have been a dream._ Henry told himself.. _Dream don't leave you almost dead and black and blue_.

If it wasn't a dream...then that meant that Walter was still around somewhere. Henry shivered involuntarily at the thought of his attacker nearby. _What if he's in the other room_... The brunette shook his head furiously, trying to dispell of the thought. Instead of dwelling on it further, he eased himslf from his bed as carefully as he could.

The room was just as it was before, comfortably lighted and welcoming. To Henry, it was sort of a space for sanctuary, for safety. But now he wasn't so sure it could protect him from what was waiting outside. _Well, if I just keep sitting here, it isn't going to help anything... _Henry reminded himself. The brunette turned towards the door, hesitantly taking hold of the knob. After a few moments of hesitation, he turned it, and stepped outside.

The soft swish of the fan running automatically caught his attention. _Well, at least its working again. _Henry vaguely remembered how stuffy the room became after the fan had fallen and broken. It had become unbearably hot, and it hadn't helped that the windows had been sealed shut.

The photographer slowly limped his way to the end of the hallway, forcing himself to peer around the corner. He let out a sigh of relief whenever he didn't see anyone. _He's not here..._

The brunette turned in the opposite direction, relief disappearing as the fear of seeing those _damned_ chains entered his mind. He took in the fairly plain sight of the door, glad to see that the chains were, in fact, not there. Henry let out the breath he'd been holding and quickly stumbled over to the door. He reached out for the knob and placed his hand on it.

"Receiver." He heard the chilling baritone voice and froze. "What are you doing?"

Henry stood motionless, frozen in place. _He's not here...he's not here...it's impossible. I just checked the apartment..._ Regardless of his stubborn thoughts, Henry forced himself to turn around slowly. Going against all logic, he _was _there. Dark blonde hair and piercing green eyes.

Henry stared in disbelief, shaking his head once in denial then again in disbelief. The shock quickly wore off though, and the same primal fear entered his veins. He turned away quickly, reaching out for the doorknob again. But he retracted his hand as soon as he reached out, taking a step back in renewed shock.

The once plain door he'd just set sights on a minute ago was once again chained from roof to floor. Henry continued taking slow steps backward until he collided with Walter. The brunette quickly turned and bounced back, his injured leg causing him to stumble and fall against the counter. He clenched his teeth, letting out several hisses of pain.

"Don't move." Walter warned him, taking a deliberate step forward.

"Get the hell away from me." Henry spat, ignoring the warning. He pulled himself back up against the counter, backing away again. "What are you doing here...what did you do!"

"You're hurt." Walter simply retorted. "You shouldn't be out of bed."

"Of course I'm hurt!" Henry yelled back at him. "In case you forgot, you did this to me!"

"Receiver-"

"Shut up!" The resistant brunette barked back.

"Let me ta-"

"You almost killed me!" Henry continued in his fit of rage.

"You don't under-"

"Just be quiet! You have no place to talk! You...you killed people! You killed Cynthia...and Andrew...Richard...and you killed Eileen, goddamnit! I don' want to hear your fucking mouth! Can't you just leave me-"

"Henry!" Walter finally raised his voice, cutting off the brunette who was beginning to enter a state of despondancy. Henry stared back at the taller man, eyes narrowed and hands balled up in trembling fists. "You _don't _understand. Just listen."

"Listen to what...?" Henry forced himself to speak through clenched teeth.

"You are...not..." The blonde struggled for the right words, trying to think of a delicate way to speak. "You are...no longer bound to the bonds of your flesh."

The expression of frustration and anger melted away on Henry's face as realization swept over him. "You mean...I'm not..." Henry trailed off, not wanting to speak the last word. It seemed like if he did, it would make it official. The brunette quickly tore off the medical tape and gaze on his neck and traced the cuts with his fingers. They read: 21121. He traced the patterns over and over again, as if making sure it was really what he thought it was. The photographer let his hand fall back to his side, eyes lowering as if in defeat. "You killed me." He spoke in a detached voice.

"Freed you from that cruel world." Walter corrected.

"I'm in the Otherworld." Henry infered, voice still emotionally flat.

Walter merely nodded, stepping closer to the brunette. "The 21 Sacraments are complete. But..."

This seemed to interest Henry, as he quickly urged him on. "But what?"

At this, the blonde's voice seemed genuinely sad. "I can't hear Mother anymore. I can't hear her sweet voice, Henry."

Henry felt a cruel smile cross his lips as he spoke mockingly. "Oh, so your little plan _backfired_, hm?" The brunette laughed - very uncharacteristically of him. "Maybe that's just _God's _way of saying that you were wrong all along."

"I did as The Holy Mother wanted." Walter interjectd, sadly. "I don't see why."

"I was talking about _God_, not that 'Holy Mother' bullshit those psycho cultists taught you. The real God."

This seemed to throw Walter slighty off. "The Holy Mother _is _the real God."

"A real God wouldn't want some psychopathic murderer running around killing people." Henry muttered darkly.

Walter disregarded the cruel comment, continuing. "What God do _you_ worhsip, Henry?"

The brunette was openly thrown for a loop by the question. He seemed to deliberate for a few moments, chewing on his lip. Finally, he answered. "I don't worship any God."

"You're a nonbeliever?" Walter asked, completely taken back. "You don't believe in Paradise?"

"Paradise? Just what the hell is that?" The brunette asked rather vehemently.

"It's a place of no suffering." Walter spoke gently. "A place of no pain and no conflict."

"And it can only be brought upon by the Descent of The Holy Mother."

Henry turned towards the chained door, immensly startled by the new voice. Walter turned too, not quite as shocked as Henry, but rather offended that someone else had barged into his territory. "Who are you?" The blonde asked, voice chilling.

The woman opened the door, the chains sinking right through it as if they didn't affect her. She stepped inside the room, shutting the door quietly behind her. Henry automatically noticed the strange apparel she donned. She wore a long black dress that hugged her midsection, then flowed out elegantly, hiding every inch of her legs. Her hair was copper black, long and straight, and flowing down her back. Her icy blue eyes were focused on both him and Walter, causing a pit of unease to form in Henry's stomach. _Another cultists freakshow. _The brunette thought in disdain.

"Walter Sullivan." The woman spoke plainly to the blonde. "I see The Ritual of the Holy Assumption was a success. The Wish House done a very well job raising you."

"You didn't answer me." Walter continued in his baritone voice.

"Ah...you're right. My name is Elizabeth Enseth. I was a part of The Sect of The Holy Mother. A contributor to the Wish House." The woman glanced at Henry, sending him a cold steely smile that sent shivers up the brunette's spine. "As it appears, you've completed The 21 Sacraments ritual."

"Skip the talking. What are you here for?" Walter asked again, voice matching the coldness of Elizabeth's smile.

"I assume you've had...'trouble'...with your Mother." Elizabeth walked further into the room, coming within close proximity of Henry. The photographer instantly took a retreating step back. "And I assume you are The Final Sign. The Reciever of Wisdom."

"Henry Townshend." Henry fiercly corrected her. He truely was getting tired of being refered to as title rather then name.

"Henry." Elizabeth spoke his name with such a slyness, it unnerved him. "So, Walter..." She continued nonchalantly. "Am I right about your problem?"

Walter sighed, almost as if giving in. "Yes...you're right. Mother...she doesn't speak to me anymore. I don't know what I've done wrong."

Elizabeth approached the blonde, casually placing a comforting hand on his shoulder. It grated on Walter's nerves slightly, but he didn't say anything. "Walter, you haven't done anything wrong, dear. It's just that your...'Mother'...hasn't been reborn yet."

"What do you mean?" Walter asked quickly, turning to Elizabeth.

"The ritual isn't complete, Walter. The Descent of The Holy Mother must take place first for you to be reunited with her."

The blonde eyed Elizabeth with softened emerald eyes. "What...are you saying Elizabeth?"

"You are Her son." The copper haired woman stated proudly. "The Holy Mother's Son. A conjurer sent to do her work. And he," Elizabeth continued, turning towards Henry. "He is Her messenger. It is through him that you'll be able to hear The Holy Mother's voice."

"M-...Me? Listen, lady...I don't think...I'm not included in any of this." Henry retorted stubbornly.

"But Receiver, you are. This was all destined to happen. It was Her will for you to be included in this. He, The Holy Son, and you, Her messenger." Elizabeth grabbed Henry's hand. clutching it tightly in her own. "Surely you cannot call this a simple coincidence! It's your fate, Receiver. Don't you realize? You're going to play an important part in bringing forth Paradise! It's a role in which you should be honored."

Henry jerked his hand out of Elizabeth's, scowling at her. "Honored? Honored in birthing the _goddamn Devil?_"

Walter turned quickly, roughly grabbing Henry by his arm. The brunette hissed in pain, feeling the soreness of his previous wounds. "Don't you dare talk about _Mother_ like that." Henry stared at the blonde with intense shock, frightened by the steely hardness in his voice. He'd never heard Walter speak in such a violent tone before.

Walter quickly released Henry's arm, backing away with a slight expression of regret on his face. "For...Forgive me." Henry ignored him, merely rubbing his still aching limb.

"Now do you believe me, Walter?" Elizabeth asked, breaking the silence. "You still have much to do. You and the Receiver must come with me back to the place of Origin."

"Where?" Henry asked absent-mindedly.

"Silent Hill." Elizabeth clarified.

Henry snorted. "_Silent Hill_? What makes you think _he_-" Henry nodded towards Walter. "'is going to leave this damn room? After all, it is his 'Mother'."

"The Holy Mother is no longer confined to this room, but has not yet been reborn. Walter is no longer tied to this place." The icy-eyed woman turned towards Walter. "Right?"

"I don't...feel tied to this place any longer." Walter spoke in a monitone voice. "And if that's what Mother wants..."

"You can't be serious." Henry retorted, angrily. "If you think I'm going to _Silent Hill_, you're wrong."

"We have to go." Walter urged. "It's Mother's will."

"I don't care who's will it is. I'm not leaving." The photographer spoke stubbornly.

Walter took a step towards Henry, hands out. "Henry-"

"You're not making me leave, damn it!" Henry shoved Walter's hand away, backing up against the kitchen counter.

"Perhaps this might require a little force..." Elizabeth mused.

"Keep you damn nose out of this, lady!" Henry yelled at her.

"Walter." Elizabeth motioned. The blonde stepped forward grabbing Henry by his already aching arms and subduing him. But the brunette continued to struggle despite the sharp pains going throughout his protesting body. He tried to writhe his way out of Walter's grasp, but it was inevitable. Finally, after a minute or so of struggling, Henry felt a fist connect with his temple, making his vision blur and darken. His struggle fell quiet and soon the photographer went limp in the blonde's arms. "That was effective. Now, all childishness put aside...we should be leaving."

Elizabeth walked over towards the door, opening it for Walter. "The Order is waiting."

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**I hope I captured the same Religious tone we all hear in the games. It's my first time writing anything "religious" at all. I definitely had to pull up the Silent Hill wikia and research The Order and Rituals a good dozen times. But hopefully it all turned out good. Also, any opinions on Elizabeth's character?**

**And reviews are ALWAYS appreciated. **


	5. Faith

**Here we go again...hopefully this chapter will be interesting. I feel like it wasn't nearly as good as the others. So I apologize. **

**I do not own Silent Hill. No own-y, no sue-y.**

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"I hadn't realized there was anyobody left." Walter mused and he walked with Elizabeth.

The midnight haired woman let a smirk play upon her lips, glancing at Walter. "Our numbers may have dwindled during these past 2 decades, but our faith has always stayed strong. This is naught but a fraction of what is to come."

The icy eyed woman led Walter into what seemed like a quant little office, with bookshelves brimming and a desk covered in papers. Elizabeth walked around the desk and sat down in the chair, placing her hands upon the desk. "Walter...I would like to speak to you about The Receiver..."

The blonde tilted his head slightly to the right, waiting.

"It's about his...resistance. I understand that this may not be what he wants, but before we can move forward, we must..._convert_ him. The Holy Mother will not start speaking through him until he allows Her to do so."

"He's very stubborn." Walter added, trying to keep a smile from appearing.

"Yes, I realized that right off the bat." Elizabeth sighed disdainfully. "The Reciever must let it happen by choice. He must not resist The Holy Mother's influence. But that's why we have you, Walter." The cultist woman smiled slyly. "It's your job to be the one to change his mind. He is the only other person who shares a bond with your _Mother_...and that alone should be enough to tie you together."

"What are you suggesting...?" Walter asked quietly, leaning forward.

Elizabeth pursed her lips, contemplating her next words. "You and the Reciever...are tied together. In many ways, must I say. You share a lot of the same characteristics, even though he may not realize it. It may seem that he hates you, Walter, but really he is just sympathizing for you. Perhaps...with a little kindness...you can change that."

"I have been nothing but _kind_ to him." Walter retorted sharply.

"Yes, I realize that. But in his eyes, he still sees you as a killer. He still sees things as 'good and evil'. But the truth is that there is only 'chaos and order'." Elizabeth clasped her hands together, staring down at them. "I want you to bring him into our world. To show him our vision of Paradise."

**-x-X-x-**

Henry awoke with a jolt, sitting up right. His head was throbbing terribly...a mixure of pain focusing on his left temple. His arms were still aching, along with his legs. His vision was blurry. "What the hell..." He groaned, sliding his legs over what he assumed to be another bed. The brunette looked down at the clothes he was wearing. They weren't his. The usual dress shirt and faded jeans were gone, replaced with what looked like casual nightwear. _Did somone...CHANGE ME? _He thought, shivering at the fact that some unknown had undressed him. His mind immediatly snapped back to Walter and he shivered again, this time more violently.

He tossed the disturbing thought from his mind and stood up from the bed. It was definitely not his apartment he was standing in right now. The room was larger then his bedroom and darker as well. There weren't any windows, just a dim lamp beside the bed that gave off a small glow. On the walls were several paintings, many which Henry couldn't make out. The brunette approached the door, giving it a slight push. He stepped warily out into another room. The room was bigger, more adequetly decorated. _A living room_, Henry decided. He walked into the center of the room, taking in his surroundings.

It was also dimly lit, small lamps sitting on end tables. It wasn't Henry's usual lighting preference, but was he really in a spot to complain? The photographer walked into what he assumed to be a kitchen. Henry clutched at his stomach, realizing how hungry he was and how long he'd gone without eating. Wasting no time, he hurried over to the refridgerator and pulled it open. _Empty. _The brunette slammed the door shut, irritated. "Don't people keep food around here?" He found himself mumbling.

The sudden click of a door opening caught Henry off guard, making him jump slightly. He walked back into the living room and saw a dark silhuolette at the entrance. He made out the faint shape of a long-coat and had to resist groaning.

"Henry," he heard the familar smooth voice. Instead of replying, the brunette backed over to the couch and seated himself, seething silently. Walter stepped into the center of the room holding something. It looked almost like a bag you'd get from a fast-food restuarant, only it was plain and missing the colorful details. _Food_.

"I'm not eating that." Henry stated stubbornly.

Walter ignored him and walked closer, setting the bag down on the table. "You _need _to eat."

"Where the hell am I?" Henry asked, voice demanding.

"Silent Hill." Walter replied plainly. "Now _eat_."

"I told you I'm not eating that." Henry repeated in the same tone.

Walter sighed patiently. He sat down beside the brunette, causing Henry to scoot to the far side of the couch. "Would you rather me force-feed you? I can do that..."

Henry stared back at the blonde with surprised and slightly frightened eyes. Something about Walter's oh-so-calm expression told Henry he wouldn't hesitate to do it. Reluctantly, the photographer reached out for the bag and opened it. He grabbed the first thing his hand touched and pulled it out. A sandwich. Tuna salad by the look of it. Henry took a bite from the sandwich, silently grateful for the food. Though he still wouldn't have eaten it if not for Walter's threat.

The blonde beside him stood up and headed in the direction of the kitchen. Henry used the opportunity to disgard the reluctance to eat and quickly finished off the sandwich with a satisfied sigh. He heard a cabinet open in the kitchen, along with the clinking of a glass. A few seconds later, Walter returned with a glass of water in hand. He set it in front of Henry.

"That's not going to poison me is it?" Henry asked almost childishly. It was a really stupid question to ask, but he figured anything that could get under Walter's skin was worth it. The blonde shook his head, taking his seat back beside Henry. The brunette reached out and grabbed the glass of water, taking small sips from it. It tasted and looked fine, he supposed. But he still refrained from giving Walter the satisfying look of gratefulness.

After a long couple of minutes in silence, Henry finished the glass of water and set it back down on the table. "What do you want from me?" He found himself asking.

Walter didn't reply right away, as he usualy did. He sat in complete silence thinking. He folded his hands together and rested his chin on them. Henry found the silence unnerving, desperately wishing that the man would just _talk_.

"What do you think of me?" Walter asked out of the blue, taking Henry off guard.

_What do I think of him? _Henry thought in disbelief. _How can he even ask a question like that? _Despite the hospitality Walter had just shown him, Henry found himself replying cruelly. "I hate you." He plainly said. "You killed people. People that I knew. And one of the only people I ever cared about. I hate you so much I can't even put it into words."

Walter nodded, taking in the brunette's words. He merely stared ahead, perhaps at the wall or maybe the table. I didn't matter. "I wish you wouldn't."

Henry let a mocking laugh escape him. "Oh really? Does it hurt your feelings?"

Walter ignored the evident cruelty in Henry's voice. He turned and faced the photgrapher, emerald eyes unreadable. "Did you ever feel sorry for me?"

Henry was utterly taken back by the question. _Had he ever felt sorry for him? _Henry lowered his eyes, staring at his lap. Maybe he had felt a tiny tinge of...pity...for the other man. Henry coudn't deny that he'd never thought of what Walter would be like if he'd been raised right. If they had met as strangers out in the town rather then a killer stalking his victim. Henry glaced over at Walter through the strands of brown bangs hanging in his eyes. "I think it was wrong what those people taught you." Henry turned and faced Walter, keeping his face emotionless as not to betray what he was really feeling. "I mean, the Wish House. And that Water Prison place. That was wrong."

"Thank you." Walter replied quietly, smiling.

"For what?"

"For thinking that."

Henry's eyes followed the man as he stood up from the couch. He turned and headed for the door. "Wait." Henry called out, making Walter stop in his tracks. "Why did you ask me all that?"

Walter turned and met Henry's stare once again. "Henry...you are tied to Mother as well. We both are." Walter closed his eyes, taking in a calm breath. "We should not think low of each other. There should not be schism between us."

"So what..." Henry spoke, arching a brow. "Are you trying to say we should be _friends?_" Walter didn't speak. He merely kept his eyes on Henry, a tranquil expression on his face. "Or you mean..._no _I would never...not in my fucking life!"

"It's Her will, Henry." Walter retorted.

"You can' make me. You can't force me. It's _my _decision." The brunette forced himself to speak through clenched teeth.

Having nothing more to say, the blonde turned and headed for the door. Turning the knob, he spared Henry's one last look. "You'll love me, Henry." The blonde quickly exited the room, leaving Henry seething to himself.

"Over my dead body." The photographer whispered. But how could that matter if he was already dead...?

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**I'm trying to work up to Henry and Walter's relationship at a steady pace. I don't want to rush through it so quickly that it isn't realistic. Also...I'm still trying to figure up how the plot will come out, so please be patient! Also, REVIEW! :D**


	6. Learning

**"Come on, Eileen! You...uh...you know what I mean!" LOL, I've had that song stuck in my head for DAYS. Also, if you wanna find a good laugh with SH4, watch the "Let's Play Silent Hill 4" series by Quadraxis on Youtube. They make some pretty hilarious comments on Henry, Eileen, and Walter in the vids. They also sing that song as well. xD Well, here's another chapter! They story is moving along now, so...HOORAY!**

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"How is he?" Elizabeth found herself asking Walter. She'd been anxious to find out how 'The Receiver' had reacted to said person.

"He said he hated me." Walter spoke sadly.

Elizabeth laughed, a light tingling sound. "He doesn't really mean that, Walter. Disregard his attitude. He's merely trying to get you to believe it in hopes that you'll leave him alone. You just keep showing him how much you care. He'll have no choice but to give in. One can only fool themself for so long." A quiet knock at the door caused the two to turn. "Come in."

The door clicked open and a young woman with auburn hair, pale skin, and turquoise eyes stepped in. She was holding a book, no doubt a guide to The Orders ways. A teacher.

"Mother Elizabeth." She acknowledged the older woman with a kind, quiet voice. "I've been considering what we talked about earlier...and if you don't mind, I'd like to ask permission to educate The Receiver on our beliefs."

"You would?" Elizabeth asked questionningly.

"Yes. I believe that maybe it could serve in helping him fulfill his purpose." The younger woman looked quickly at Walter, then back at Elizabeth.

"Hmm...it sound like a fine idea, but there's also danger in it." Elizabeth mused. The younger woman shot her a look of confusion, making Elizabeth continue. "He's still very resistant to our beliefs and needs. It's hard to tell what he'd do if given the chance to escape...unless, of course, someone was there to watch over him. "With this, Elizabeth turned towards Walter. "You'll acompany him at his lessons, right?"

Walter nodded quietly, making Elizabeth continue.

"Well then...I suppose you could start today if you wish. Unless you want more time-"

The younger woman shook her head quickly. :"No, no. I can start today. Right away. Whenever he is ready."

The older woman smiled. "Thank you, Rosalie. I've always appreciated your enthusiasm."

Rosalie bowed. "No, thank you Mother Elizabeth." The auburn-haired woman straightened her posture and left the room in a quick gust.

"Walter, I believe you should inform The Receiver on this schedule change. And please, if he's resistant, try to ease him up a bit. The last thing we need is poor Rosalie having to deal with a delinquint." Elizabeth turned her attention away from Walter back to the previous book she was reading. The blonde-haired man took the opportunity to steal away from the room, quietly cloisng the door behind him.

**-x-X-x-**

Henry was sitting idlely in the same spot Walter had left him. The brunette had found a blank sheet of paper and pencil while searching around the unfamiliar house. To pass time, he'd taken to drawing, a hobby he'd had before the whole nightmare with room 302 had begun.

The man may not have been much talented at anything, but he did possess remarkable talent whenever it came to the creative arts. In the 4 short years he'd actually gone to college, he'd earned himself a degree in Fine Arts, but hardly ever put it to use. It was sort of a closet hobby of his, save the photography which he done out in public. Past drawings from previous years were stowed away in a box somehwere at his apartment, detailing the history and improvement he'd made over the years.

He was stuck on what he should add in the picture next whenever he heard the door quietly swing open, sending a gust of air in his direction. Sighing, the brunette set the sheet of paper down, leaning back into the couch.

"What do you want now?" Henry mumbled half-heartedly across the room.

Walter walked in and sat opposite of Henry on the couch. "What do you know about The Order?"

Henry payed no mind to the question, merely giving the other man a short answer. "Not a lot. Except for that everyone that was involved was either insane or a sadist." Henry narrowed his eyes, gazing at Walter. "Or a mixture of both." He added quietly.

"You'e wrong about that." Walter retorted calmly. "Sister Rosalie came in earlier. She wants to teach you about The Order's ways, Henry."

The brunette scoffed, looking away. "What makes you think I'm going to let her?"

"If you want to make this process easier, you'll do it." Henry could feel the green eys piercing through him, making the brunette feel immensely uneasy. "And if you plan on protesting, I could always _make _you listen."

Henry resisted shivering. "You wouldn't force me." But he didn't sound so sure of himself.

Silence passed between the two before a small smile made its way on Walter's lips. "You sound so scare of me."

"I'm not." The photographer retorted sharply, but his almost trembling hands contradicted that statement.

"Don't be." Walter merely stated. "I am not your enemy, Henry."

"You killed me." The smaller man protested.

"I saved you."

Henry could feel a repeat of their past arguement about to happen. So instead of trying to argue back, he merely fell silent, scowling at the cushions on the couch. He supposed Walter actually felt like he _saved _him. It was hard to argue with a person when they were hell bent on thinking they'd done the right thing. The brunette sat, tapping his fingers on the end table. The silence was uncomfortable, but he favored it over the arguments. The only sound in the room was the ticking of a grandfather clock in th corner. Walter glanced over at it, then stood up.

"Come with me." He stated simply.

"No."

The blonde sighed. "Henry..." But the photographer stayed planted in his seat, staring at the taller man like a stubborn child. "I'll carry you if I have to."

Henry wasn't about to let the other man put his arms around him, so he stood up with a grunt. "_Fine_."

**-x-X-x-**

"Hello, Henry." Rosalie greeted the blonde warmly as he entered the room. He spoke no words back to her, merely sending a cold scowl back in her direction. The gentle woman paid no attention to it, keeping a warm expression on her face. "Hello, Walter." The woman also greeted the other man with the same smile. "I'm so glad _both _of you could be here. It's sort of an...honor, I suppose. Being within the Holy Mother's chosen presence." Henry scoffed, turning his attention away from the woman. Rosalie shot a quick, unoffended glance at him, then turned back to Walter. "How much does he already know about The Order?"

"Very simple facts, but nothing much. Most of what he's heard has been nothing but unfavorable opinions."

"Okay." Rosalie nodded, accessing what her first choice of action would be. Shen then turned to the brunette who wasn't paying attention to her. "Henry?" Rosalie tried, but he still didn't look at her. Walter walked a semi-circle around the brunette, shooting him a look that told him he _better _start paying atention. Henry sighed in defeat, and turned towards the woman. "I'm assuming you already know all about The Descent of the Holy Mother, right?"

"You mean The Descent of the Devil? Yeah...I know all about that." The photgrapher replied in disgust.

"No, Henry." Rosalie chatised him, as if he was a child. "What you've heard has been nothing but bad opinions and lies from unbelievers. It is those who scorn Her that will never make it to Paradise. Now," the auburn-haired woman began, flipping open a book. "I think we should start off by going over The Order's conduct."

"Sounds exciting." Henry muttered under his breath sarcastically. Walter took his seat a few feet from the duo, keeping a close eye on The Reciever as Rosalie read to him from the book. A few minutes turned into ten, then twenty, then eventually thirty. It was finally nearing a full hour whenever Rosalie began to finish up the first lesson.

The auburn-haired woman picked up a piece of red chalk, then quickly drew up a circle on a miniature chalkboard, filling in the sides with strange symbols and the inner circle with 3 smaller circles. "I've seen this." Henry complimeted quietly.

"Yes, it is The Halo of the Sun. A sign of our religion and beliefs. It is always drawn in red, used in many of our practices in ceromonies, including the Rebirth rituals." The photographer sent Rosalie a questionning look, making her continue. "The Rebirth rituals are used to...how can I state this simply...resurrect the 'dead'."

"That's impossible..." Henry whispered.

"No...it isn't Receiver. I've seen it happen with my very own eyes. It happened only once in my lifetime, but it was an expirience I'll never forget. It helped cement my faith in The Order. I knew after seeing such a spectacle that anything was possible. Perhaps, in time, maybe you'll be able to cement your own faith in The Order."

Henry said nothing to this, choosing to remain quiet. He had already learned that it was useless to try and argue with Rosalie about their beliefs. Somehow the woman always had an answer to every question he threw at her.

The lesson was over and Walter led Henry back to the room. It was nighttime now, the sky dark and immensely foggy. On the way back, Henry had mused that this was definitely not the beautiful, scenic Silent Hill he remembered taking pictures of a couple years ago.

"The bathroom is here." Walter gave the door a slight push then flicked on the light. The sudden increase of light made Henry squint his eyes.

He was secretly happy that he at least had a nice clean bathroom to go to again. Those few days in his apartment traveling between worlds and not having the luxury of bathing had made him grateful to have a bathroom. He stepped inside, carefully avoiding any contact with Walter.

"Get out." Henry ordered the taller man. Walter quietly bowed out of the bathroom, paying no heed to Henry's tone. The brunette showered, glad that he could escape Walter's presence after a solid hour of being around him. He finished long after he should have, waiting until the hot water ran out. He used it as an excuse to stay in longer, not wanting to go back outside. After slipping on a new batch of clothes, which had been set up conviently on the sink's counter, he walked down the hallway and took a right into the bedroom.

Henry shut off the lamp, eager to escape reality for a couple of hours. But a timid knock at the door made him groan in annoyance. "What is it?" He snapped.

The door craked open just slightly. He caught a glimpes of Walter's face. "If you need anything..."

"I'm fine." Henry snapped again.

"...I'm right outside." Walter continued nonetheless. "Goodnight Henry." The door shut quietly, not making any sound at all. Henry merely stared at the door, fuming quietly. He didn't feel right snapping at Walter when all the man had done was check on him. And what's worse, he hated the guilt he was feeling for being so cruel to him.

_Maybe he really does feel like he saved me... _His earlier thoughts passed through his mind. _He probably thinks he's done the right thing and here I am being a total asshole over it. _Henry let his thoughts run on before abruptly shaking his head. _No...that man doesn't deserve my guilt. Anyone who kills another person deserves that kind of treatment. What the hell was I thinking? _He quickly pushed the thoughts away, forcing himself to try and go to sleep.

But it seemed like no matter how hard he tried to convince himself the man was a killer, Henry couldn't help but feel an immense amount of sorrow for him.

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**FFFFFFFF- You know how bad I just wanna make Henry embrace Walter and kiss him? DO YOU! ...Well...it wouldn't go along well with the plot of the story, but don't worry! The goodness will come later, my friends! Please READ AND REVIEW. **


	7. Angel

**At the time I wrote this, we had a Winter Storm Warning in effect...so I just wanted to say that I was excited for the snow. Yeah...random. WHATEVER. I can't help it. I hardly get out. I live in this lousy apartment in lousy West Virginia and- WHY AM I EVEN TELLING YOU THIS, GAAAAAAH.

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**Silent Hill - Konami (not me)**

After a couple of days being forced into activities he didn't quite agree with, Henry had found a solemn pattern in his new life.

Each day began with a lesson with Rosalie. Today's lesson had been the same. After learning the basics of The Order's religion, it became tradition that he and Rosalie pray at the alter. He hated it, of course, but with Walter constantly watching from the shadows and threatening him with punishment, Henry had no choice but to grit his teeth. He'd bow his head and seeth silently while Rosalie prayed aloud.

In between the lessons and what time he spent sleeping, he was constantly aware of Walter's presence. Sometimes he wouldn't be directly in sight, perhaps off to the side, but Henry always knew he was watching. Waiting...Anticipating... The man was like a hawk, watching every single movement Henry made with interested eyes as if it was a spectacle. It was quite unerving to the photographer, considering he loved his past personal space and introversion. It was but another aspect of his new life that he had to keep quiet and grit his teeth. Though, that didn't stop him from sharing how much he despised Walter.

No matter what Henry said, the apathetic man would pay no regard to it, and merely watch him with those ever so interested emerald eyes. The constant gaze served to make shivers run up the brunette's spine, but he did his best to hide it from Walter. _The sick fuck probably likes it... _Henry mused to himself cynically. Those mere thoughts made another shiver run through him as he thought of the possibilites. He quickly pushed the disturbing thoughts from his mind, not wanting to even go _there_.

"Are you hungry?" Walter asked quietly from the other side of the room. He was sitting at a desk, drumming his fingers absently on the cherry wood.

"No." Henry spat back at him. The brunette glared at the dark floor boards, wishing the other man would just leave him alone.

Walter continued amusing himself with the desk. "You haven't eaten in over 8 hours."

"I said I'm fine." The brunette snapped sharply at Walter. The other man sighed, used to this type of behavior from the person he called "His Receiver" (another thing Henry despised). The title was spoken as if he was an inanimate object, like he _belonged _to Walter, or something. It grated on his nerves, furthering his disposition with the man.

"I'm getting you food, anyway. And you _will _eat it." Walter stood up from the cherry desk and headed for the door. "Don't try anything." He added solemnly, leaving the sacrament all alone.

"Like I could..." Henry whispered to him, despite the fact that he was already gone.

Days in the house were spent mainly with reading the massive collection of books they kept here, though most of them were about The Order's history or dull mythological stories. But in the giant stack of books, Henry had come across one he was currently interested in. "Human Psychology". He was a little baffled why a book like that would be present here, but he dismissed it as a way to study human behavior in terms of brainwashing The Order's members.

The book had been good for the most part, until it started delving into the social disorders, such as Schitzophrania, Bipolar Disorders, and Psychosocialness. It was like everything else around him; a constant reminder of Walter. _He could never escape that man's presence..._

The padding footsteps of somenone coming to the door made Henry toss the book down. The door open and closed softly, revealing a man in a long, dark blue coat. Walter walked over to the brunette, setting today's meal down on the table.

Henry already knew too well the threat of refusing to eat, so he picked up the bag, taking out the contents inside. An apple, BLT, and napkins. The usual. Walter also set down a glass of red liquid, different from the usual water.

"Is that..." Henry whispred quietly.

"No. That's just silly." Walter answered him before he could finish, looking at Henry skeptically.

"Oh." The sacrament realized with relief. It was kind of silly, thinking Walter was going to make him drink blood, but hell. It was hard to tell what the man was capable of after seeing him do everything he'd done. "Then what is it?"

Walter pursed his lips for a bit, waiting. "It's...red wine." He shrugged. "I thought you'd like a change."

"Okay..." Henry found himself replying awkwardly. Alcohol. From Walter. If it'd been another time, place, and a whole different scenario, Henry might have found himself laughing hysterically at the mere thought of it. He picked up the glass of red liquid, taking a small sip of it. "It's...good." He spoke quietly, setting the glass down on the table.

"Thank you." Walter spoke, a little enthused by Henry's approval. The blonde took a seat next to Henry - a rather close seat at that - making the other man shoot a wary glance towards him. Henry paused for a bit, merely staring at Walter in discomfort, but then slowly resumed his meal. "The lesson today..."

"What about it?" Henry retorted in the same sharp tone as usual.

"When you were praying with Sister Rosalie...well...you weren't exactly praying, now were you?" This seemed to pique Henry's interest, as he abandoned his almost eaten sandwich and turned to Walter.

"I don't pray to the _devil_." The sacrament seethed, glaring daggers at the blonde.

"The Holy Mother is _not _the devil." Walter retorted just as venomously. The two men sat, staring at anything but each other. Walter finally forced himself to take a slow breath, exhaling. "I'm sorry for that. Forgive me."

"Go to hell." Henry muttered darkly. He finished off the remains of his sandwich, then took a large drink from the red wine. If he was lucky, the proof would be high and he'd find a small escape from reality in his drunken stupor, but he doubted he was _that _lucky.

"What is bothering you, Henry? Is there anything I can do to help you?" Walter asked suddenly, patience wearing away.

What is bothering me?" Henry asked skeptically. "What is _bothering _me?" The brunette laughed, a cold, dark sound that didn't fit with him one bit. "What the fuck do you think is bothering me? This whole goddamn place is bothering me. I'm dead, you're dead, Eileen's dead...and you wanna know how you can HELP?" Henry stood up angrily from the couch, glaring down at Walter with severe hatred. "You can't help! What's done is DONE. There is no _helping, _Walter." The blondes name was spoken through clenched teeth, the severeity of Henry's usuallly quiet voice making him wince.

Walter stared up at Henry, a look of empathy on his face. The green hues of his eyes darkened a shade, mirroring his mind-frame. Henry bit his lip, waiting for the repsonse that never came. He finally turned away from Walter, aiming to walk away. The other man stood up quickly, grabbing Henry by his arm. "Henry-"

"Let me go, goddamnit!" Henry jerked his arm out of the other's grasp roughly, making Walter stumble back. Walter could see tears evident in Henry's eyes now, threatening to spill over." "It's...it's over. It's done! Just...leave me alone, _please_." The brunette spoke the last word with a desperate tone, making icy pangs dig into Walter's already undead heart. The two stared at each other, Henry angry and hurt, and Walter just plainly _hurt_.

Henry finally broke the moment, striding away from Walter. The slam of a door echoed throughout the house as the blonde tried to keep his knees from giving out on him. _He hates me...he hates me...Mother, he hates me..._

**-x-X-x-**

"I'm so glad this meeting could be arranged." Elizabeth spoke enthusiastically as she and another man took their seats.

"Yes, I'm sure you are." The man spoke. "If I may ask, what exactly is it that you seek from the Valtiel Sect, Elizabeth?"

"Something very important." The aged woman murmured. "I expect you to be familiar with the ritual performed on Walter Sullivan almost two decades ago, right?"

"Of course," The dark-haired man spoke in his gritty voice. "Where we allowed Valtiel to enter Walter's mind to allow The 21 Sacraments. We're all too familiar with that."

"Good, good. Because the favor I'm about to ask you is one of important significance." Elizabeth leaned forward, resting her chin on her hands. "The ritual was alotted so that Walter's mind-frame be altered by Valtiel so as he not get 'cold-feet' in the middle of The 21 Sacraments. I believe Valtiel's services could be used again to our advantage."

"What are you saying, Elizabeth?" The man crossed his arms, eyeing the older woman.

"I'm saying that maybe the same ritual could be performed...to allow Valtiel to enter The Receiver of Wisdom's mind as well." At this, Elizabeth smiled, her rosey lips strecthing upward.

The man cocked his head a little to the side, thinking. "For what reason? What purpose would that serve?"

"If allowing Valtiel into Walter's mind took all doubt away from him, maybe we could alter The Receiver's mind as well...make him more..._compliant_." The midnight-haired woman leaned back into her chair, letting a weary breath escape her. "He's been so troublesome lately. I honestly believe that at this rate, we'll never be able to hear The Holy Mother's demands. I'm trusting that you can help me, right Edward?"

Edward also sat back into his chair, absently scratching the side of his face. "Yes...I suppose...that would suffice to that problem...I'll consult the other members of the Sect about this. I'm sure they'll agree to it."

"So..." Elizabeth continued, slowly. "When?"

Edward let his lips spread into a wicked smile, mirroring Elizabeth's. "Tonight."

"Good." The raven-haired woman replied, satisfied. "I'll make sure Walter isn't around whenever we come to get The Receiver. I'd like to do this without having to explain every detail to him."

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**YEEEEEEEEEEEEEAH! Plot is cooking up! Teehee...I'm glad no one else has thought of this yet. I mean...the who allowing Valtiel to enter **_**Henry's**_** mind as well. I think its orginal...right? RIGHT? ...I hope so. D: Please review, my friends!**


	8. Valtiel

**Things get cooking in this chapter! I hope you like it! Now, excuse me while I go watch Brad shit bricks over beind chased by Walter (4PlayerPodcast FTW) But f you wanna join me...just go to Youtube and type in "The Killer Scares Brad XD". There's also a part 2. You'll find it in the related videos area. It's funny. I laughed. Did I say it was funny? Yeah, I thought so. :P**

**I dunt own Silent Hurrrrr...

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"He should be gone now." Elizabeth whispered quietly to Edward. "I sent him out on a simple fetch quest. That should give you enough time."

Edward nodded. "I have a small group dispatched to retrieve him. They'll be here shortly."

Behind the two, a group of The Order's members were setting up the ritual, a large Halo of the Sun painted in red and candles surrounding the circle.

**-x-X-x**

Henry refused to leave the bedroom after that evening's argument. Luckily, Walter had been called out by Elizabeth and it gave the brunette some time to clear his head. It was rare to have these moments of alone time and silence to himself.

It was fairly past midnight, the clock ticking slowly by, the big hand seemingly stuck on the 3. Henry had finally forced himself to sleep after 11 o'clock, giving into the only escape he had from this place; his dreams. But even then, sometimes it wasn't enough just to sleep. Walter would haunt his dreams every so often, causing Henry to lose more sleep then he gained.

The door to the bedroom creeped open, little by little. A group of cloaked men stepped in, making sure their footsteps didn't awake the sleeping figure. One of them pointed at Henry, waving his fingers forward. They surrounded both sides of the bed, staring down at Henry while he slept. The man snapped hs fingers suddenly, and the men bent down adn supressed Henry.

He awoke, jerking aand yelling. "Wh...what...get...get off of me! Wha-what are you doing? Walter? Walter? What the hell is going on? Put me down goddam-" One of the member tied a gag around Henry's mouth, silencing him to the point where only his weak mumbles could be heard. They carried the kicking and flailing man out of the room, as if nothing had happened. Another member of the group eventually slipped a bag over his head, blockin Henry's vision and rendering him useless.

The walk was fairly long. Having no way to voice his complaints or see where he was going, all Henry could do was feel the jostling of his body as they walked. The group stopped momentarily, and the sound of a door opening caught Henry's attention. They resumed their pace, walking a few steps into what he considered was a room before they dropped him on the ground. He landed on his side, groaning at the impact on cement floor. Before any other move could be made, he was once again being restrained while what he could only assume was cuffs was being snapped around his wrists and ankles.

The bag was removed from his head and Henry quickly took in the sight of the room. Dark, dimly lit, and members of The Order surrounding him. He looked up to his left and saw Elizabeth standing beside a man with dark hair. H was holding a massive book in his hands, while Elizabth was merely smiling.

"What the hell is going on here?" Henry yelled in her direction. "What are these people doing? Where's Walter?"

"Henry," Elizabeth spoke softly, reminding him of how Rosalie would say his name. "Do not be afraid, Receiver. We are not going to hurt you."

The brunette narrowed his eyes. "Then what are you doing? Why isn't Walter here?"

"Walter is gone for the time being. I sent him out to retrieve something for me. And what we're doing...will benefit us both greatly." Elizabeth stepped forward, and began walking a circle around Henry as if sizing him up. "We're going to allow Valtiel, the Angel of the Otherworld, to enter your mind, Henry. There he will permit The Holy Mother to speak to you. And he will also alter your mind, making you more compliant...more willing...more devoted. You will be one of us."

"No...you can't...you can't do that...You can't take my will away from me!" Henry yelled hoarsly at the other woman. "Why didn't Walter tell me about this? Was he the one wh arranged it?"

Elizabeth frowned, stopping in front of Henry. "No...Actually, Walter has no knowledge of us planning this. I thought itd be..._better_ for him to be in the dark."

"You're doing this behind his back...What will you do if he turns on you?"

The raven-haired woman smirked, clasping her hands together. "Walter will never turn on us, Henry. If he turns on The Order, he turns on his Mother. And do you really think he'd do that, hmm?" Henry didn't repsond. He lowered his eyes, staring thoughtfully at the floor. "Just as I thought. Now...shall we begin?"

Elizabeth stepped back while Edward stepped forward, reading from the massive book he was carrying. "Valtiel, Holy Angel of the Otherworld, thou call upon your services tonight. Answer thou needs for help and enter thy mind of thy Receiver of Wisdom. Permit Thy Holy Mother to share her words with him. Alter the eyes in which he sees our world, our vision of Paradise."

Henry listened uneasily to the man, clenching his teeth so hard he thought they'd shatter. A burning sensation flared in his chest, spreading out slowly over stomach, his shoulders, running down into his fingers and toes. He crumpled down into the floor, whimpers of pain escaping him every so often. He felt his fingers twitching, the arms convulsing and the popping of joints as they did so. A massive headache washed over him like a wave of cold walter, intensifying the pain. He dug his nails in the concrete floor, leaving pitiful scratch marks as he tried his best not to scream.

**-x-X-x-**

Walter opened to door to the house, staring around the dark room. He should have known Henry wouldn't be awake at this hour, but he couldn't stop himself from checking. He still expected to be met by the cold, hard stare, the icy green eyes that would stare right through him. But no...he wasn't there.

_He's probably asleep... _Walter thought somberly. The blonde-haired man walked quietly to the bedroom door, hesitantly cracking the door open. When he wasn't met with Henry sleeping in the bed, he push the door open quickly, making his slam against the wall. A picture vibrated from the impact and fell off the wall. _He was gone_.

Walter quickly ran out into the hallway and then the bathroom. Henry was there. He was missing...

He glared hard at the bathroom tile, nails digging into the palms of his hands. They cut through the skin, making tiny droplets of blood trickle down his palms. But the small wounds healed as soon as they appeared and there was no evidence of where the blood came from. He quickly turned away, stalking out of the bathroom and then the house.

_Did he run away? _Walter thought angrily, walking quickly through a small, wooded part of the town. _He couldn't have. He's too scared. He would have tried it sooner... _Or maybe... _Maybe today just pushed him to do it. _Walter cursed inwardly - something he rarely ever done - and continued stalking forward. His eyes suddenly caught the glow of a house, not too far off the in the distance. It looked like candles were burning inside and he could faintly hear the chatter of people. _What are they doing...? _He thought, genuinely confused.

He quickly ran to the building, pushing the door open in a swift movement. He took one step inside and froze, hands hanging at his sides.

Edward read the last of the lines, raising his voice with the intensity of the ritual. "Now, Valtiel, release thy Receiver and let thy work be done!"

Henry, who had struggled to his knees, suddenly stopped convulsing, whimpers dying down as he fell to the floor, unconcious. The members who were surrounding stopped praying and raised their heads to look. Walter stared speechless at Henry, his gaze eventually shifting over to lizabeth. "What have you done...?"

The shackles were removed from Henry as the members began to clean up the ritual space. "We allowed Valtiel to enter The Receivers mind as he did your's. You two really _are_ the same now."

"Why?" Walter asked, voice a mere whisper. "Why him? This shouldn't have happened to him!"

"I don't see why you're so upset with this, Walter. He'll be much more sensitive to The Order's needs now." Elizabeth made an attempt to push past Walter, but he grabbed her arm.

"You're forcing him to be. You took part of his will away."

Elizabeth jerked her arm out of Walter's grasp. "All for a good cause. Now, if you excuse me, I need to leave. It's late." The aged woman walked out of the room, along with many of The Order's members.

Walter walked up to Henry, who was still lying unconcious on the floor. He bent down resting his hand on Henry's shoulder. "Henry...?" He whispred quietly. It was evident that he was unable to repsond, so Walter made no more attempt to wake him. He pulled the brunette into his arms instead and began walking towards the door. "I'm...I'm sorry. I should't have let this happen..."

He held the other man close, Henry's head resting on his shoulder blade.

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**Yep...was that cheesy? I hope not. D: This is DEFINITELY gonna make things interesting later on. Trust me. I'm a doctor. O_O Idk how that's relates to ths, but WTF.**


	9. New

**Hurr durr, another chapter! We're getting closer to the climax of the story, so be patient. :D I personally hope this chapter helps satisfy the Henry/Walter fangirl in you!**

**Silent Hill doesn't be- Yeah, I've said it a million times.

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_"Receiver..."_

_Henry stirred a bit, sqeezing his eyes closed. Whoever was speaking to him, he didn't exactly feel like responding back. His head hurt..._

_"Receiver. Listen to __**me**_**.**_" The voice commanded him sternly. _

_He let his eyes open slightly, gazing around himself. But all he saw was darkness - everywhere. Not one speck of light. Where the hell was he? _

_"You can longer deny your part in this, Receiver. You __**will **__share my message with The Order." _

_"Who...who are you...?" Henry whispered out, not knowing which direction to turn to. "What do you mean 'message'"?_

_"You should already know who I am...and may I say, Receiver, I'm not happy with the way you've been treating my __**son**__." The voice softened a bit, but still held the overwhelming authority in it._

_"Y...Your son?" Henry let the puzzle pieces fall into place, eyes widening with realization. "You're The...The Holy Mother...you're real..."_

_"Yes, I am." The woman's voice replied soothingly. "Let me show you, Receiver, just how real I am."_

_Henry waited in silence, unable to process the flurry of thoughts running through his mind. Then the woman began to speak, and the sound was like honey running in his veins._

**-x-X-x-**

Walter watched as Henry became more and more animated in his sleep. It began with simple changes in his facial features, fist a look of annoyance, then one of confusion. Finally his face melted into a look of pure serenity, as if nothing in the world could harm him.

_What is he dreaming about? _Walter thought anxiously. He'd watched over Henry all night, waiting for the moment whenever he would wake up and he could survey the damage.

Walter jumped a little once he saw Henry's eyes begin to flutter. He leaned forward, watching as the brunette slowly opened his eyes, taking in the room around him.

"Am I awake?" Henry asked softly.

Walter nodded. "Henry? Are you okay?"

Henry turned his head to the right a little, gazing at Walter. "I'm fine." Walter half expected to hear the venemous tone, but instead Henry's voice was...calm. "Why, is something wrong?"

"No, I..." Walter leaned back slightly form Henry, surveying his appearence. The tense posture Henry usually kept whenever Walter came close to him like this was long gone, replaced by pure, utter comfort. Just what had the ritual done to him? "Do you remember anything that happened last night?"

The brunette ran a hand through his tousled hair, sighing. "A little...some people came in here, and they took me to this room. It had The Halo of the Sun painted on the floor, and there were candles everywhere...but after that, everything just sort of goes blank." Henry lowered his eyes, staring at the bedsheets. "Did something happen?"

Walter felt heavily reluctant to answer Henry's question, unable to predict what his reaction would be. _He has a right to know... _"The Order...they performed a...ritual on you, Henry. One that would allow you to...receive Mother's words." It wasn't the whole truth, but Walter considered it was enough.

"Oh." The sacrament said simply. "_Oh_. I...I suppose it didn't hurt much...I feel fine, I guess."

"Good." Walter exhaled, leaning his head back and staring at the ceiling.

"But...But I had this dream..." Henry added, voice lowering into a whisper. "There was this woman. She called me 'Receiver', like you did. She told me..._things_. I recognized some of the stuff she talked about. Like you...and what you did." With this, Walter leaned forward once more, anxious to hear more from Henry. "She talked about The 21 Sacraments, and everyone else...Cynthia, Jasper, Richard, and...Eileen. She spoke a lot about Eileen, but its so fuzzy...I can't remember..." Henry covered his head with his hands.

"What's wrong?" The blonde asked, concerned.

"My head is killing me...just thinking about it hurts..."

Walter watched as Henry hissed in pain, fingers tugging slightly at the strands of brown hair. Hesitantly, he reached out with both hands. Henry looked up just in time to see him. "I can help...you don't mind, do you?"

It would be a lie to say that he wasn't surprised whenever Henry nodded his approval. He placed his fingertips on Henry's temples, closing his eyes. The feeling that flooded through Henry was one of complete ease. It was like warm water running over him, distracting his mind from the pain. His headache began receding bit by bit as the feeling completely engulfed him. Walter opened his eyes, hands retreating from Henry's head.

"All better?" The blonde asked.

Henry nodded. "How did you do that? That was...amazing...sort of."

Walter smiled, green eyes brightening. "Mother empowers me, Henry. I cannot be harmed. And since we share the same bond with her, I can heal you as well." Henry didn't add anything, as something else gained his attention. The brunette sank back, staring blankly at the wall. "Henry?"

"I just remembered something..." The sacrament spoke quietly. But as soon as Walter expected him to tell him what, the brunette shook his head. "Nevermind. It's not important."

"Are you sure? You can tell me." Walter urged him, but Henry merely shook his head again. "If you ever wana talk about it..."

"It's fine. I promise." Henry pushed himself out of the bed, stretching once he stood up. "Did I miss the lesson with Rosalie today?"

Walter stared at Henry, baffled that he'd worry about something like that. He finally shook himself out of his daze. "Yes. It's late in the evening. You've been asleep for a long time."

"Will she mind?" Henry went to the closet, sorting through the clothes.

"No, of course not. I've already explained the situation to her." Walter approached Henry from behind. "Do you need any help?"

The brunette turned around, holding a stack of clothes. "No, that's fine. I...need to take a shower. Clear my head."

Walter stepped out of Henry's way, letting him walk past him to the door. He followed Henry out into the hallway and watched as he disappeared into the bathroom. Having nothing else to do while Henry showered, he entered the living room and took a seat on the couch, waiting and thinking. _He said he was fine. _Walter thought to himself, resting his chin on his hands. _But...he's acting strange...not right...he's not angry with me. He doesn't get tense whenver I'm around him anymore...It's as if he's completely forgotten everything that has happened over the course of this event. _Walter struggled with himself, trying to decide if the change was for the better. He secretly enjoyed then fact that Henry was less poisonous to him, but at the same time the thought unnerved him. It was unnatural.

He decided that he'd let time answer that question instead of becoming agitated over the matter.

**-x-X-x-**

"Do you believe the ritual was a success, Edward?" Elizabeth sat at her desk in her office, scanning through a book. Edward sat opposite of her, watching the woman work.

"I strongly believe it worked. Once The Receiver gains conciousness, the effects should take place. Not to mention, The Holy Mother should begin speaking through him."

Elizabeth looked up, icy blue eyes framed by strands of long, dark hair. "And on Walter's part?"

Edward smirked. "He shouldn't voice too much complaint once he sees the changes for himself."

"Yes, you're right. He _has _had a lot of trouble trying to convert Henry. It should be naught but a simple task now. Then once we gather information on how to awaken The Holy Mother, we can finally bring forth Paradise." The aged woman sighed contently, a smile spreading on her lips. "It's so close now, I can already see it. All this waiting is making me anxious."

"You are not the only one, Elizabeth. Just a little more patience..." Edward stood up from the chair, smmothing his dark jacket down. "I think its time for me to leave now...there's other business that needs tending to within The Valtiel Sect."

"Have a good evening, Edward. And thank you." The man nodded once before closing the door behind him.

**-x-X-x-**

"Thank you." Henry said, as he sat down. He reached over for the warm meal that was sitting on the table - Steak, a baked potato, and green beans. "I mean, its better then just sandwiches."

"Your welcome." Walter smiled warmly at him. He took a seat beside Henry, the smaller man not reacting once to how close they were. Walter's arm brushed against Henry's and he half expected him to scoot away, but no. He didn't even pay attention to it and instead kept eating. The blonde grabbed the glass of red wine - something he thought Henry appreciated more then the water - and handed it to him. Henry took the glass with a small smile, taking a drink of it.

For a while, all Walter did was watch Henry eat in finished the whole plate of food and the glass of wine was about half full. Henry sank back into the couch, holding the glass in his hands. "I'm sorry." Walter heard the small apology and turned.

"For what?" He arched a brow. Henry fiddled with the cushions on the couch, eyes becoming sad. Walter reached forward, placing his hand on Henry's arm. "Henry..."

"In my dream...she said I didn't treat you right. I think maybe she was right..." The brunette turned, emerald meeting emerald. "I was...selfish."

"No...you weren't." Walter replied, voice soft. "You have every right to hate me."

"I don't..." Henry took in a breath, steadying himself. "I don't hate you. I...I wanted myself to hate you, but no matter how hard I tried to make myself do it, it never happened." Henry felt his mouth becoming dry, so he paused, taking another sip of the wine. "Truth is...I feel...sorry for you. And what those people did. It wasn't right. None of it was..."

Walter felt his heart seize up, a heavy unexplainable feeling washing over him. Henry felt _sorry_ for him. He didn't _hate _him...

"You wouldn't believe how much I'd sit and think of a way to end it all without killing you. At first, I was fully committed to the act, but after reading Joseph's diary and having Eileen read all of your diary entries to me, it became hard." Henry laughed, uneasily."I mean, they expected me to feel sorry for you, and yet at the same time, kill you. It made no sense. It was crazy." His voice became dark, low. "Who wouldn't kill for their mother...I know I would."

Walter could find no words that would suit the emotions he was feeling now. So instead, he merely smiled at Henry. But at the last mention of his mother, Walter found a new question bubbling to his lips. "What was your mother like, Henry?"

"My mother? She...she was nice." The sacraments eyes seemed to wander far off, becoming lost in past memories. "I remember for my 14th birthday, she bought me my first professional camera. Of course dad wasn't so happy about it and she caught a lot of heat over it, but she said she didn't mind. She bought me a nice scrapbook to go with it, too. I still have it, but I think I left it back in room 302." Henry frowned, brows furrowing. "I guess I miss her pretty bad."

"She sounds like a really nice mother. A kind person."

Henry smiled proudly. "She was." The brunette set the glass down on the table and sank back further into the couch. "I think...I'm just...really tired." Walter wasn't watching him, but still heard Henry. His mind was off wondering about what Henry said about the scrapbook. _Maybe I should get it for him... _It was most likely still in room 302, untouched by the tenants of the apartments.

Walter felt a slight pressure on his arm. He looked down, taken by surprise whenever he saw Henry slumped over, head resting there. He was asleep, evident in his deep breathing. Walter merely stared at his serene face, wondering what it was like to be able to sleep so peacefully like that. He hadn't had a single nice dream every since his death 10 years ago.

The blonde snaked an arm around Henry's shoulder, resting his lips on the crown on Henry's head. It wasn't a nice dream, but it was close enough to it.

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**I...like this. It feels right. But don't make the mistake of thinking that Henry's just gonna roll over and let The Order do as they please. He may be a lot more compassionate towards Walter, but his will hasn't been taken away completely. Please review!**


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